In My Veins
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: It continues to play in her mind - like a sensual soundtrack to every step and smile and caress, to the perpetuity of their moments together. Post-ep for 6x15, 'Smells Like Teen Spirit.' Cover Art by PanananaPananana


_AN: Episode addition to 6x15, 'Smells Like Teen Spirit._

_I admit I came out of this episode proclaiming, 'there's no way I could write anything for it; it was just too good!' …So of course I wrote something. I don't expect this to live up in any way to the amazing and touching scenes we've been gifted with… But I hope you might enjoy it maybe just a little bit. Thank you for reading!_

___Thank you to PanananaPananana for gifting me the amazing cover art!_

_._

* * *

**In My Veins**

* * *

She still hears it.

It continues to play in her mind - like a sensual soundtrack to every step and smile and caress, to the perpetuity of their moments together.

_Oh you're in my veins, and I cannot get you out..._

The haunting piano notes as her coat glides off her arms and falls to the floor, silent as it lands on the plush carpet. The deliberate guitar accents as her fingers trail up the row of his shirt buttons, slipping them open one by one until the fabric slides off over his broad shoulders and her palms greet the familiar heat of his skin. The hypnotic voice telling the darker part of their story, one of longing, sadness and missteps and yet, ultimately, of hope. Of crawling out of that darkness, making it past the sorrow.

_Oh you're all I taste at night inside of my mouth..._

She thinks their lips haven't separated since he'd swiped the keycard, and the heavy door had spilled them inside in a haphazard ballet of stumbled steps, gripping fingers and seeking mouths. For just one short moment she relives their very first kiss and how his taste had lingered on her tongue, how her lips seemed to tingle even weeks later, how her heart had been pounding long before she had ever allowed herself to admit what lay dormant just beneath the surface, ready to spark and catch fire between them.

The room is vast, lies muffled by soundproof windowpanes, luxurious carpeting and opulent furniture - a serene backdrop to the sound of their kisses, rustling clothing and the melody of what is now their song looping in her brain. They never needed hearts and roses, wouldn't have fit a top 100 most romantic song; it's just not them. But this is - spontaneously attending a senior prom together, living in the moment that presented itself. Filling in a blank in both their lives, giving something to each other that they'd both been missing.

Almost getting thrown out for making out on the dance floor and then ending up in a hotel room to spend the night together.

"Wanna complete the prom experience?" He'd growled into her ear, set her body tingling with the insinuation in his voice and there had been nothing she'd wanted more. She felt like a school girl all over again, giddy and adventurous and free. And yet it was so much better now - unencumbered by teenage angst and her rebellious streak, secure in their relationship and the strength of their love.

But he's Castle so of course it's the Penthouse suite in one of New York's priciest hotels when she wouldn't have noticed nor cared if it had been a cramped standard King, and yet she can never resist when he suggestively lifts those eyebrows at her.

She barely notices her surroundings as his fingers skirt across her stomach, track the line of her waistband. Fire licks at her spine, heat pooling sensuously low. She bites her lip, her head falling back when his mouth slides down the length of her neck, sips at the hollow of her clavicles.

She feels like they're still dancing as he crosses the room with her, choreographing her steps while her blouse, her slacks, her bra mark a trail of seduction from the front door to the sprawling bed.

The duvet is like a cloud when she sinks into it, her back arching high as his fingertips mark the outline of her underwear, up and over and around. Her fingers tighten into the feather-soft pillows behind her until he finally tugs the lace down the length of her legs. Her thighs fall open while her eyes flutter closed, her muscles clenched in anticipation as the blood pounds through her veins.

"Relax," he whispers, his mouth brushing her ankle, tickling her skin. She exhales- and then lets herself fall. She gives herself to the moment, to him, rejoicing in the freedom to lie bared before him, like this. She's an open book, exposed and vulnerable and yet she's never felt safer. He knows the lines written on her skin and the scars that have burned and ripped her pages, understands the stories inked into her heart, the poetry of her life like no one before.

His fingers seem to tremble against her skin, every caress worshipping as he trails them up her legs, skates past her hipbones while his mouth follows their path. His lips linger where she's most responsive, intimately attuned to all of her secrets - the inside of her knee and the delicate line where her thigh meets her torso, the slope by her hipbone and the sensitive concavity of her waist, the fine skin of her wrist. She feels like she's floating, her body alive with it as heat rushes through her limbs, her nerve endings sizzling, tingling, bursting like pops of fireworks beneath her skin.

He nips at the underside of her breast, circles his tongue around and around and around until she's almost sobbing with need but his mouth journeys higher instead, meeting the sharp ridge of her collarbone, the long line of her neck, the edge of her chin.

And then his lips find hers, his tongue sweeping, curling, delving deep, exploring her and she sinks back with him, draws him closer, their moans and sighs writing an exquisite melody that completes the yearning, melancholy spaces of their song, completes the story being told.

Her arms tighten around his neck, fingers gripped into his short hair and her knees drawn high over his hips. Their bodies melt together, glide and dance in a rhythm all their own, slow and sensual; practiced notes, highs and lows, surprising rises and sharp falls. Skin to skin, surrounded by his warmth, their bodies form a perpetual circle; ancient, prophetic, eternal.

_Everything is dark. It's more than you can take.  
But you catch a glimpse of sunlight. Shinin', Shinin' down on your face._

He's always been this for her, been doing this for her – giving her that ray of hope on even the darkest day, making her feel whole and beautiful, making her feel alive.

He completes her.

* * *

_Title and lyrics quoted in italics are – of course – from "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle._


End file.
